Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes You Knew
By Ellen Notbohm
South Florida Parenting
Some days it seems the only predictable thing about it is the
unpredictability. The only consistent attribute, the inconsistency. There is
little argument on any level but that autism is baffling, even to those
who spend their lives around it.
The child who lives with autism may look "normal," but his or her
behavior can be perplexing and downright difficult. Today, the citadel of
autism, once thought an "incurable" disorder, is cracking around the
foundation. Every day, individuals with autism show us they can overcome,
compensate for, and otherwise manage many of the condition's most
challenging aspects. Equipping those around our children with a simple
understanding of autism's most basic elements has a tremendous effect on the
children's journey towards productive, independent adulthood. Autism is
an extremely complex disorder, but we can distill it to three critical
components: sensory processing difficulties, speech/language delays and
impairments, and whole child/social interaction issues.
Here are 10 things every child with autism wishes you knew.
1. I am a child with autism. I am not "autistic." My autism is one
aspect of my total character. It does not define me as a person. Are you a
person with thoughts, feelings and many talents, or are you just fat
(overweight), myopic (wear glasses) or klutzy (uncoordinated, not good at
sports)?
2. My sensory perceptions are disordered. This means the ordinary
sights, sounds, smells, tastes and touches of everyday life that you may not
even notice can be downright painful for me. The very environment in
which I have to live often seems hostile. I may appear withdrawn or
belligerent to you, but I am really just trying to defend myself. A "simple"
trip to the grocery store may be hell for me. My hearing may be
hyperacute. Dozens of people are talking at once. The loudspeaker booms
today's special. Muzak whines from the sound system. Cash registers beep and
cough. A coffee grinder is chugging. The meat cutter screeches, babies
wail, carts creak, the fluorescent lighting hums. My brain can't filter
all the input, and I'm in overload! My sense of smell may be highly
sensitive. The fish at the meat counter isn't quite fresh, the guy
standing next to us hasn't showered today, the deli is handing out sausage
samples, the baby in line ahead of us has a poopy diaper, they're mopping
up pickles on Aisle 3 with ammonia. ... I can't sort it all out, I'm
too nauseous.
Because I am visually oriented, this may be my first sense to become
overstimulated. The fluorescent light is too bright. It makes the room
pulsate and hurts my eyes. Sometimes the pulsating light bounces off
everything and distorts what I am seeing. The space seems to be constantly
changing. There's glare from windows, moving fans on the ceiling, so
many bodies in constant motion, too many items for me to be able to focus
- and I may compensate with tunnel vision. All this affects my
vestibular sense, and now I can't even tell where my body is in space. I may
stumble, bump into things, or simply lay down to try and regroup.
3. Please remember to distinguish between won't (I choose not to) and
can't (I'm not able to). Receptive and expressive language are both
difficult for me. It isn't that I don't listen to instructions. It's that I
can't understand you. When you call to me from across the room, this is
what I hear: "*&^%$#@, Billy. #$%^*&^%$&*" Instead, come speak directly
to me in plain words: "Please put your book in your desk, Billy. It's
time to go to lunch." This tells me what you want me to do and what is
going to happen next. Now it's much easier for me to comply.
4. I am a concrete thinker. I interpret language literally. It's very
confusing for me when you say, "Hold your horses, cowboy!" when what you
really mean is "Please stop running." Don't tell me something is a
"piece of cake" when there is no dessert in sight and what you really mean
is, "This will be easy for you to do." When you say, "It's pouring cats
and dogs," I see pets coming out of a pitcher. Please just tell me,
"It's raining very hard." Idioms, puns, nuances, double entendres and
sarcasm are lost on me.
5. Be patient with my limited vocabulary. It's hard for me to tell you
what I need when I don't know the words to describe my feelings. I may
be hungry, frustrated, frightened or confused, but right now those
words are beyond my ability to express. Be alert for body language,
withdrawal, agitation, or other signs that something is wrong.
There's a flip side to this: I may sound like a little professor or a
movie star, rattling off words or whole scripts well beyond my
developmental age. These are messages I have memorized from the world around me
to compensate for my language deficits, because I know I am expected to
respond when spoken to. They may come from books, television or the
speech of other people. It's called echolalia. I don't necessarily
understand the context or the terminology I'm using, I just know it gets me
off the hook for coming up with a reply.
6. Because language is so difficult for me, I am very visually
oriented. Show me how to do something rather than just telling me. And please
be prepared to show me many times. Lots of patient repetition helps me
learn.
A visual schedule is extremely helpful as I move through my day. Like
your day planner, it relieves me of the stress of having to remember
what comes next, makes for smooth transitions between activities, and
helps me manage my time and meet your expectations. Here's a great web site
for learning more about visual schedules
http://www.cesa7.k12.wi.us/newweb/content/rsn/autism.asp
7. Focus and build on what I can do rather than what I can't do. Like
any other human, I can't learn in an environment where I'm constantly
made to feel that I'm not good enough or that I need fixing. Trying
anything new when I am almost sure to be met with criticism, however
constructive, becomes something to be avoided. Look for my strengths and
you'll find them. There's more than one right way to do most things.
8. Help me with social interactions. It may look like I don't want to
play with the other kids on the playground, but sometimes it's just that
I simply don't know how to start a conversation or enter a play
situation. If you can encourage other children to invite me to join them at
kickball or shooting baskets, I may be delighted to be included.
9. Try to identify what triggers my meltdowns. This is termed "the
antecedent." Meltdowns, blowups, tantrums or whatever you want to call them
are even more horrid for me than they are for you. They occur because
one or more of my senses has gone into overload. If you can figure out
why my meltdowns occur, they can be prevented.